


Subtext

by Sinful Words (MontanaHarper)



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-24
Updated: 2004-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:43:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/Sinful%20Words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elijah's not sure he's having the same conversation with Josh that Josh is having with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subtext

**Author's Note:**

> The Chinese restaurant Josh and Elijah eat at is The Stag, just off Balboa Beach. AFAIK, it no longer exists; it probably ceased to exist before the timeframe of this story, but I'm taking liberties because someone, somewhere, needs to immortalize it in print. It was the best Chinese restaurant in southern California, IMO.

>   
> _Do you really think, Arthur, that it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations that it requires strength, strength and courage, to yield to._  
>  **—Oscar Wilde** , _An Ideal Husband_  
> 

It's been nearly five months since principal photography wrapped and Elijah hasn't seen any of the others—Josh, Shawn, Jordana, Clea or Laura—since he walked off the set for the last time back in June, but he's not surprised that he remembers exactly how Josh smells.

Elijah's sitting in a director's chair in a hotel room in L.A., letting the controlled chaos of cameras and lights and people wash over him, when Josh walks in and drops—all loose limbs and casual slouch—into the chair next to his and Elijah can smell the spicy, smoky scent of clove cigarettes clinging to him even before he pulls one out and lights up.

Peggy, the unit publicist for _The Faculty_ who's rushing around the room like she's working to avert the apocalypse, pauses and looks at Josh like she's going to tell him to put it out, but something in Josh's expression stops her and she goes back to whatever she was doing.

Josh laughs quietly. "I knew there had to be an up side to being a movie star," he says and Elijah laughs, too, because he gets the whole joke. Josh leans closer. "So what have you been up to?" he asks.

"Not much." It's true, too, as far as it goes. He's read some scripts—a couple even good—but he's not rushing into anything, not until he's heard back about the _Lord of the Rings_ project. "You?"

Josh shrugs and takes a deep drag on his cigarette then licks his lips before exhaling and, strangely fascinated, Elijah can't help but watch; the hollowing of Josh's cheeks, the quick movement of tongue over lips, and the ephemeral plume of gray smoke capture his attention.

Josh grins at him, a knowing look, and opens his mouth to speak, but they're interrupted by the first interviewer, who's pulled up a chair and is settling herself into it.

The series of interviews is short and predictable, and Josh lets Elijah answer almost all the questions, speaking only when he's directly addressed. Elijah's prepared for most of what's thrown at him and has enough experience with press junkets to field the unexpected questions pretty adeptly, too. The repetition gets a little boring, as each interviewer seems to want to ask the same things, but it's no worse than any other publicity work Elijah's done.

When they're finished, the sound man unclipping the small mic from the front of his shirt, Josh finally speaks again. "You want some lunch?" he asks, and even if Elijah wasn't starving—which he is—he would've said yes, because there was this...feeling in the air, like they were waiting for something to happen. A faint crackle of electricity, like right before a thunderstorm breaks.

And so Elijah says, "Yeah, sure. Just let me check in with my mom and let her know."

Josh nods and Elijah catches Peggy's eye. "Can I use the phone for a minute?" he asks, gesturing toward it. She looks confused and he thinks she's going to say no, but then she nods and turns back to her conversation with a cameraman. Josh is right, he thinks with a grin; there may just be a couple of perks that come with being a movie star.

His mom's a little concerned about him hanging out with Josh, which isn't really surprising as she's only met him a couple of times and both of those were during filming on _The Faculty_ , when Josh was in character. Not that she says anything, but he can hear it in the tone of her voice when she says, "Don't be too late. I'll leave you a plate in the fridge, okay?"

"Okay," he says and then, after a split second of self-conscious awareness of where he is and how many strangers are probably eavesdropping on his end of the conversation, he continues, "And Mom? I love you."

Elijah hangs up the phone and turns to Josh. "I'm set. Are you driving, or am I?"

As they walk past, he grabs his jacket from where he dropped it on the floor near the door, and they're halfway down the hotel corridor before Josh grins at him.

"Your choice," he says, and Elijah suspects there's a joke there that he's not getting.

"You," Elijah answers, and the widening of Josh's grin tells him he's right, but he still doesn't get the joke. He runs through the possibilities in his head, but can't come up with anything. He's ridden in Josh's car before; it's not like Josh is a crazy driver—not like Zeke. Hell, last Elijah knew, Josh was driving a beat-up Honda Civic that was so old it was hard-pressed to reach the speed limit on the freeway, let alone exceed it.

"Cool." Josh lights another cigarette as they step out of the elevator and into the hotel lobby. "Where do you want to eat?"

Elijah grins. "Your choice," he says, turning the tables on Josh, who laughs.

"You like Chinese?"

Elijah nods, squinting against the flat November sunshine and fishing his sunglasses out of his jacket pocket. There's really not much he _doesn't_ like when it comes to food. Plus, he's reasonably good with chopsticks, which might impress Josh.

And when the fuck did he start caring about impressing Josh?

Because while they were filming he hadn't been worried about impressing anyone but Robert. Well, okay, if he was being honest, he had kind of been trying to impress Jordana, but that had been a really short-lived crush and he was long over it.

And then Josh is handing him a helmet and he realizes that they're standing next to a sleek black and chrome Harley and Josh is grinning again, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, and Elijah's sure he looks as stunned as he feels, which is irritating because he fucking _hates_ feeling like an idiot.

So he shuts it down as fast as he can, reasserting control over his face and pasting on a wry, "okay, you got me" expression as he settles the helmet on his head and fastens the chin-strap, then watches Josh straddle the bike and flick away his cigarette butt before pulling his own helmet on.

He's never really understood the motorcycles = sexy equation, though he's known a fair number of girls who swoon over a guy on a bike, but suddenly it starts to make sense and it's entirely the wrong time for Elijah to have this realization. Because his cock is unexpectedly finding the whole motorcycle thing really fucking hot and how the hell is he going to explain a hard-on to Josh when it's pressed against Josh's ass?

And he must've been standing there for longer than he thought, because Josh is looking at him. "Changed your mind?" Josh asks, and even though he looks like he's perfectly serious, like he'll accept Elijah's decision and not give Elijah shit for it, Elijah doesn't want to back down; it feels too much like being a chicken.

He knows that's irrational, knows that he's got a tendency to go farther and push himself harder than everyone else because he's always been smaller and shorter, and even though he's worked really hard _not_ to have a chip on his shoulder about it, it's still affected him at least a little. Somehow, though, it's not just about that right now. Right now it's _Josh_ he doesn't want thinking he's a coward.

So he steps forward and throws his right leg over the back of the Harley, relieved to realize that his hard-on has faded some, and settles himself behind—but not quite touching—Josh, hands gripping the back of the seat for balance.

As Josh guns the engine and the bike starts to move—just an inch or so—Josh laughs and throws back over his shoulder, "You might want to hang on," before he snaps down the face-shield and then Elijah's hands are grabbing at Josh's waist because it's the only way he's going to stay on the bike as it shoots forward into an almost-nonexistent gap between two cars.

Elijah's seen plenty of motorcycles go by in traffic in the time he's lived in L.A., but he's never ridden one, and it's different from the other side—fucking terrifying. He leans more into Josh's back, not wanting to see the cars passing so close, sure that they're going to sideswipe one any second now.

He doesn't realize quite how tightly he's wrapped his arms around Josh until he feels the rumble of laughter under his hands and then he's tempted to loosen his grip, to let go even, and go back to holding onto the seat, but his self-preservation instinct wins out over his bruised ego pretty easily and he closes his eyes completely as they race up a freeway onramp, just barely catching a glimpse of the 405 South sign.

And there's nothing for Elijah to do except think or be terrified as Josh steers the Harley into the space between lanes, zipping past the stop-and-go traffic. Thinking seems like the better option, since Elijah tries to make a point of being at least as brave as the characters he plays and Casey wouldn't have freaked—too badly, at least—in this situation. Hell, Casey faced an alien invasion and pretty much single-handedly killed the fucking alien queen; there's no way he'd be scared of a little motorcycle ride.

Of course, there's always the question of whether Casey would be willing to get on a bike behind Zeke. And that leads Elijah to thinking about the end of the film. Even though he's only seen the rough cut, he knows how the ending goes, and it's a total crock. Zeke, a football star? No way. Zeke is the total bad boy of the film; there's no way he'd go for the whole redemption thing. And what was up with the whole "hot for teacher" vibe? That pretty much came out of left field—it was total geekboy fantasy wish fulfillment.

Of course, so was the "Casey's famous and dating Delilah" wrap-up, no matter how much Elijah would like to think that his character was, in the end, cool enough to pull it off.

Actually, with Marybeth out of the picture and Stan and Stokely paired up, it made a hell of a lot more sense to put Delilah with Gabe, which left Casey and Zeke...together. And Elijah is thinking _way_ too much about the sex lives of fictional characters—characters he shouldn't be thinking about at all. He tells himself that it's the fault of the press junket, that he'd left Casey behind until the past few days of interviews brought it all back

Except it's really not about Casey—or Zeke. It's really about Elijah and Josh and the fact that Elijah remembers what Josh smells like even after five months and about how Elijah's arms are wrapped around Josh's chest and about how it all feels so strange and yet so natural at the same time.

But Elijah doesn't have a chance to think about it further (and maybe that's a good thing) as Josh turns off the freeway and onto Harbor and Elijah's kept busy trying to figure out where they're going. Chinese, Josh said, and they're in Newport Beach now, so Elijah searches his memory for an appropriate restaurant, but he doesn't know the area very well and he's not coming up with anything. Especially since they keep going until Elijah can see beach and the sun reflecting off the ocean, and he has to stifle the urge to giggle at the sudden ridiculous thought that Josh intends to drive them all the way around the world to China.

And then Josh is slowing down, pulling into a tiny parking lot, and there's a row of wood and stucco buildings just ahead, a narrow sidewalk the only thing between them and the wide golden expanse of beach.

Elijah's got just enough presence of mind to let go of Josh now that they've stopped, to sit back a little on the seat and focus on projecting an image of cool nonchalance. He suspects Josh can see right through it, but it's at least worth the attempt.

So he unbuckles the chinstrap and hands Josh the helmet, wondering for half a second what his hair looks like after about forty minutes sweating under a hunk of padded fiberglass before dismissing the thought as vain and thirteen-year-old-girl. Still, he runs a hand through it—oh so casually—figuring that having it sticking up is much better than flattened helmet hair.

Helmets secured on the bike, Josh starts toward the nearest building and Elijah jogs to catch up. The inside is so dark that it takes Elijah a minute to figure out they're in a bar. Before he can ask any of the half-dozen questions that spring immediately to mind, Josh waves at the man behind the bar.

"It's just going to be to two of us, Jeff," he says, and he keeps walking toward a pair of swinging doors at the far end of the room.

Elijah follows.

The room on the other side of the doorway makes a lot more sense to Elijah. It looks like your average dingy diner, with turquoise vinyl booths, Formica tables, and speckled gray tiles on the floor.

Josh is almost all the way to the front of the restaurant now, stopping finally at a small table that sits pressed against the plate glass of the front window. Outside, Elijah can see the beach.

And he's feeling a little strange about allowing himself to be steered around so much; he's used to being pretty independent, making his own decisions and dealing with any consequences. On the other hand, he likes and trusts Josh.

Besides, it's only lunch.

So he lets Josh order for him, remembers that Josh is vegetarian even before it becomes apparent that their meal is going to be meat-free, and isn't at all sure how he feels about the fact that he remembers these kinds of details.

Conversation during lunch is casual; Josh talking a little about the Sofia Coppola movie he just wrapped and Elijah offering a few details on the James Toback project he's starting in a couple of weeks, and everything seems normal again.

As soon as dishes are cleared away, though, Josh pulls out his lighter and a slightly squashed-looking hard pack of Sampoernas and Elijah knows he's staring but he can't seem to stop. Josh smiles slyly at Elijah as he lights up, then his grin widens and Elijah realizes he's licked his lips. Not for the first time in his life, Elijah is glad he doesn't blush easily, and he forces himself to turn his attention away from Josh's mouth and towards the seascape outside.

"You want to walk?" Elijah asks, indicating the nearly deserted beach with a jerk of his head, and then he's standing without waiting for Josh to answer him because it's just a little too close—a little claustrophobic—inside right now, with the sweet clove smell of Josh's cigarettes and the slow, knowing curve of Josh's lips.

Elijah's about fifty yards down the beach when Josh catches up with him, falling silently into step, and they continue that way for a few minutes until finally Josh speaks.

"Here," he says, holding the pack out to Elijah, and Elijah very nearly stops dead but manages to catch himself and make it into a sharp right turn, which leaves him moving toward the public toilets. Josh follows as Elijah pushes open the heavy metal door and steps inside. "Come on, dude." Josh's voice carries just a hint of wheedling, layered on top of something Elijah can't quite identify. "You've been wanting one for ages."

The lure of the cigarette is tempting, but not nearly so tempting as the guy who's offering it, and that's dangerous territory that Elijah's learned to avoid, so he opts for the lesser of two evils, reaching out to take the pack from Josh, their fingers brushing—accidentally?—in the transaction.

As he holds the lighter steady for Elijah, Josh says, "Trust me. You're not going to regret it," and Elijah thinks maybe that's not true, because maybe he already does.

The first drag fills his throat and lungs with fire and he doubles over, coughing, the sound echoing painfully loud in the small brick-and-tile room. Josh's hands are strong and warm on his back, rubbing gently as Josh holds him up.

"Easy. Next time don't try to take it so deep," Josh says and Elijah's not thinking about cigarettes or inhaling, but about the feel of Josh's body against him, and the images Josh's words are evoking have nothing to do with smoking and everything to do with fucking.

And suddenly Elijah's wondering if maybe the conversation he's been having with Josh isn't the same conversation Josh has been having with him, because when he straightens up Josh is still holding onto him and he can feel something hard and insistent against his hip and there's pretty much no doubt what it is. So he shifts against it, casual and nonchalant like it's no big deal to be pressed up against another guy's body, another guy's cock hard against him, and it sends a tingle from the pit of his stomach to his balls when he hears Josh gasp.

"Right," Elijah says hoarsely. "Not so deep next time."

And now they seem to be having the same conversation because Josh takes the barely touched cigarette from Elijah's fingers and flicks it away before leaning forward and taking Elijah's face between his hands, and the kiss is breathtaking and intense and Elijah's not sure whether to blame it or the cigarette for the resulting dizziness; or maybe it's all the blood that's rushing in the opposite direction from his brain.

Then Josh's mouth is gone and Elijah's about to protest the loss until he registers that Josh is kneeling in front of him, fingers on the button of Elijah's jeans and the complaint turns into a moan because there's really only one way for this particular scene to end. Josh shoves Elijah's t-shirt up and out of the way, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, and the thought of Josh sucking on his cock makes Elijah's knees buckle and his hands clutching tight on the cool porcelain of the sink behind him are the only things that are keeping him upright.

And yeah, if this is what Josh meant when he said, "You've been wanting one for ages," then he was completely right because even though Elijah's apparently been avoiding consciously thinking about it, the message his body's sending is that other parts of his anatomy haven't been so reluctant to consider the idea.

Then his jeans and boxers are around his thighs and he feels defenseless, exposed, and some dark corner of his brain finds the whole picture almost unbearably erotic. In his mind it's a strange superimposition of life and art, with Josh (Zeke) going down on (a half-terrified, half-aroused) Elijah (Casey) in the (school) bathroom, and it's strange because he's never pictured _Zeke_ on his knees for _Casey_ before; it's always been the other way around.

And how fucked up is it that he's not only still associating himself with Casey and Josh with Zeke, but that he's thinking about sex in terms of their characters? Or maybe it's that he's thinking about their characters in terms of sex. Either way, it's definitely fucked up.

Josh does something indescribable with his tongue and the image narrows down until it's all about brown eyes looking up at him from under dark lashes, red mouth wrapping around his cock, and if he keeps looking down at Josh, keeps watching Josh's cheeks hollow as he sucks just like they do when he's taking a drag on a clove, Elijah's going to come.

So he closes his eyes and banishes thoughts of Zeke and Casey and long fingers tangled in his hair as Josh holds his head and fucks his mouth and christ but this is _not_ helping his situation at all.

And it's not helping, either, that he can feel the brush of Josh's arm against his shin and he _knows_ —without even needing to open his eyes—that Josh is jerking himself off as he sucks on Elijah's cock. It's really better if he doesn't open his eyes; at least that's what he tries to convince himself. Because it's bad enough to imagine the scene—and by "bad" Elijah means "really fucking hot and likely to make me come"—but if he opens his eyes and sees Josh, kneeling with his legs spread on either side of Elijah's feet, jeans open and hand fisted around his cock, stroking it hard and fast in rhythm with his mouth on Elijah's cock—

He can't help it. He opens his eyes.

And then it's too late, he's too far gone and no amount of geometry or Hemingway or even worry that someone will walk in on them is going to do any good. He's got just enough functioning brain cells left to try to warn Josh that he's going to come, but everything's so tangled up in his mind—real and fictional, Josh and Zeke, Elijah and Casey—that he's afraid of what will come out if he opens his mouth. He settles for a firm hand on Josh's shoulder, pushing him away.

Josh looks up at him and quirks an eyebrow, but refuses to be moved, and by this point Elijah doesn't care anymore. His world has narrowed down to the slickslide of his cock between Josh's lips and the brush of Josh's arm against his leg and the sound—oh, fuck, the lushwet _sound_ —of getting sucked off, echoing in the small room.

And then he's clinging to the sink again to hold himself up, and Josh has opened his mouth slightly and pulled back just far enough so that Elijah can see his cock pulsing against Josh's tongue, can see the contrast of white on pink and fuck, he's _coming_ in Josh's _mouth_ , and then Josh shifts forward suddenly, swallowing Elijah's cock deep into his throat and it feels like nothing Elijah's ever experienced before.

"Fuck," he hears himself whisper, and the word sounds more like a prayer than a curse.

When Elijah's completely spent, Josh sits back on his heels and draws the back of his left hand across his mouth; his right hand is still working his cock, though from the sound of his breathing it won't be long until he comes, too. And Elijah doesn't move except to reach out one tentative hand, tracing his fingertips lightly along Josh's cheek.

It's breathtaking, standing over Josh as Josh kneels on the floor and jerks off, and again Elijah has an overwhelming sense of the dichotomy of the image, because Zeke would never put himself in this position: at Casey's feet, leaning back on the fingertips of his left hand, hips arched up and making tiny thrusts against the rhythmic motion of his fist, eyes closed and lips parted, head tipped back, baring his neck.

"Gorgeous."

Elijah realizes he's spoken aloud when Josh's eyes open wide and he flashes Elijah a grin, then his mouth drops open into an almost surprised-looking O and he's coming and Elijah is more than a little embarrassed at his own cock's renewed interest, not to mention the fact that he's still standing in the middle of a public bathroom with his jeans down around his thighs and his shirt up under his armpits.

It takes him just a minute to pull himself together physically, and by that time Josh is standing at the next sink, washing his hands, and the silence is comfortable.

As they walk back up the deserted beach toward the parking lot and Josh's Harley, Elijah looks over and, before he can over-think it and change his mind, says, "Next time it's my turn on my knees, okay?"

If Josh is surprised, he doesn't show it. He just nods and holds the pack of cloves out to Elijah, who takes one and lets Josh light it for him.


End file.
